Inter Canem Et Lupum
by Kay Taylor
Summary: Wolf, Wendell, Virginia. ADULT. Malemale, step-sibling relationship. There are some complications involved in getting to the happily ever after. One modern girl, the offer of a kingdom, one slightly doggy Prince, and several very confusing kisses.


_"I'd like to say that Wolf and I lived happily ever after but that's not true...."_

I

It's humiliating, Wendell thinks, to be half royalty and half still (secretly, secretly) golden retriever. The dog in question had settled down to live a long and fruitful life in the palace coach-houses, visited occasionally by a girl with bright blue eyes and a stubborn expression who _wouldn't_ admit, no matter how hard she was pressed, that she was in any way sentimental enough to remain attached to an lopsided-looking canine who enjoyed rolling in the hay and barking at pixies. The dog in question was so unrelentingly _doggy_ that Wendell had once sneaked down to the coach-houses after dinner to see if it could secretly talk, because it really wasn't right that the dog should have gone back to being just a dog when King Wendell sometimes woke up curled up on the floor by the fireplace.

Are you quite all right, Your Majesty? his valet asked, staring straight ahead with an expression that suggested he'd seen far worse in his time. It wasn't entirely convincing.

Um. Yes. Yes, of course, I'm -

Wendell looked around, trying to find the nearest source of clothing. The rug had been well and truly rolled in at some point, and the bed was a daunting distance across the room for a King with no clothes on and ashes in his hair.

The valet sniffed, and held out the towel draped over his left arm. Wendell felt absurdly grateful.

There's no need to tell anyone about this, he said with all the authority he could muster, winding the towel around his waist. I must have been sleepwalking.Of course, Your Majesty.

Similarly unconvincing, and even more so when five minutes later the door was thrown open by a man-shaped whirlwind dressed in eyewatering magenta. It careered into the room, looked around wildly, and seeing Wendell sitting on the edge of the bed, launched itself with an across the four-poster until it was almost sitting on his lap.

You were dog again! In your sleep! Weren't you! Was it the _rabbit_ dream?

Wendell tried not to look disapproving. In fact, his left leg was starting to go to sleep under Wolf's not inconsiderable weight, and the hairs on the back of his left arm were unaccountably _tingly_ against Wolf's soft brown hair, and he hadn't yet had breakfast. It ended up being a very disapproving look indeed.

Wolf. You're up early for someone dressed so very much like a brothel-keeper.Oh, do you like it? The insult was entirely lost.

It's very... bright, Wendell admitted. Red velvet was a strange thing to be dressed in at seven o'clock in the morning, he thought, and it smelled like clean laundry and hedgerows all at once. As if Wolf, too, had been out running last night, running through the fields as naked as Wendell felt. Damn. Get _off_ me, you mangy thing. Wolf countered. You said so.Not at seven o'clock in the morning, I didn't, Wendell retorted, and shoved Wolf off his leg. Almost instantly, his leg started to miss the feeling of Wolf's skin. Damn damn damn. What on earth are you doing up?It's a lovely day, Wolf said, rolling over onto his back, sprawling arms-and-legs all over the bed. Wendell tried not to look, and started trying to tease the pieces of ash out of his hair. The air is juicy. And, he continued, Virginia has gone to visit Anthony. You remember? The 

Wendell remembered. And you haven't gone with her.

Wolf laughed. Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be here and so outrageously _red_ and you wouldn't be looking at me as though you're about to shout Guards! Seize him! which I think, incidentally, would be _really_ unfair considering -

Wolf obviously had a plan. Wendell sighed. You have some sort of plan to - he waved his arms, trying not to drop the towel. Distract me, cause havoc, undo all the good work I've done in the last few months, burn down the castle, that sort of thing?

Wolf was attempting to look shifty. No, not exactly.

Wendell had the misfortune to look away again, casting his eyes over the bedroom floor and hoping beyond hope that there was clothing within easy grabbing reach (because he really _didn't_ want to get up like this, it would be un-Kingly) when Wolf pounced on him from behind and struggled a kiss onto his startled lips.

As kisses go, it wasn't great.

II

It was short and embarrassing and there was entirely too much unexpected tongue. Nevertheless, it made Wendell turn bright red and stutter, and it made Wolf run from the room with his hands over his ears shouting I can't hear what you're calling me!

Wendell hadn't thought of calling him anything at all.

Except - maybe - confusing.

III

Virginia likes to think of herself as a modern girl. Well, besides the whole living in a castle in a magic kingdom' thing. Okay, besides the possible reincarnation of Snow White' aspect, and the little pregnant and confused when barely out of high school' element. Apart from all that, she really misses CD players and the way the air goes whoosh!' behind the trains on the New York subway, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and coming home from work to crash in front of the TV. But she made her choice when she realised that really, the modern world wasn't for Wolf.

Living back home with a confused man-wolf hadn't been without its good points. She still remembers how hard she laughed the first time Wolf tried to protect her from a garbage truck. Crouched down low, hackles up, trying to stare it out. To the amusement of passers-by and the exasperation of the garbage men, who spent a good five minutes trying to fend Wolf off with giant plastic-handled brooms. But it had grown tedious and downright dangerous trying to explain to people why Wolf had, in a mad fit of impulse, stolen their little boy's hotdog or chased their little girl's bicycle almost into the lake.

No, Wolf wasn't made for New York. He didn't like shops, and was distrustful of traffic, and hadn't quite managed to shake the conviction that television was like a giant crystal ball (and had been disappointed to find that talking into it didn't take his messages to Virginia when she was out of the house). They had returned to the Fourth Kingdom, and been welcomed back into Prince - no, _King_ Wendell's court.

And Virginia had been welcomed back into the strange place that was somewhere between Wolf's exuberance and Wendell's desperate need for self-control.

She'd read a book once, discarded by Wolf and left lying around the apartment until, by chance, she'd had a sudden decision to clean under the bed. Briefly put, its theme was Love Triangles And Why They'll Screw You Over Every Time'.

Virginia, as a modern girl, finds it ironic that something written in twenthieth-century New York could be so apt in a country where mice can talk and engagement rings sing annoying, twee little tunes until flung to the back of the dresser drawer and strangled with a spare pair of socks.

IV

At the Royal Masquerade and for weeks afterwards, Wendell always maintained he had known that the girl in the peacock mask was Virginia, that it had been one of those famous and rather madcap royal jokes. He insisted particularly vehemently over breakfast the next morning, when Wolf looked at him darkly and circumspect over pumpkin ice-cream (and who, Wendell thinks, would demand ice-cream for breakfast?). Virginia's hair was rumpled from sleep, the brilliant green-and-blue of peacock feathers still clinging like a smudge behind her ear, and she had smiled, and complied with the lie.

Truth be told, he _hadn't_ known the girl in the peacock mask was Virginia, up to the moment on the balcony with the fireworks, when the splattering of blue-green-gold had lit up the colours in her eyes, the shimmering thousand-eyes on her dress, and he had leaned forward (or did she lean forward, first?) to plant an awkward kiss on her parted lips.

I'm not a candidate for Queen, she had said simply, as the bangs and whooshes overhead subsided.

Wendell had hesitated. Years of etiquette and strategy and poison-apple-recognition classes hadn't prepared him for this.

Would you like to be?

V

Modern girls don't marry boys who have their own kingdoms, and who still complain about fleas _months_ after getting turned human again.

VI

Wolf was too nervous to say anything to Wendell the day after the fateful kiss. Despite waking up in the guest quarters (because, somehow, he had reasoned that Wendell's sense of smell was terrible enough that he wouldn't find Wolf if Wolf went and hid in a room that smelled of gardenia and tea-roses, and had fallen asleep huddled under a pink dressing-table congratulating himself on his ingenuity) at the crack of dawn and hearing, through ten floors of busy castle servants like one of those ridiculous princess-and-the-pea stories (or was it a beanstalk?), the unmistakeable sounds of a very confused King trying to get comfortable on the flagstones in front of the fireplace, he went to breakfast in the servants' quarters and avoided Wendell for another whole day.

The next day, he somehow managed to be out hunting' whilst actually sitting behind the coach-houses, trying to explain the whole messy situation to a golden retriever.

And _then_ it was all sort of tingly and warm and Virginia elbowed me in the stomach and _cripes_ she has a pointy elbow when she wants to, I don't know where she puts it when we're snuggling, and then the Prince no the King shook my hand, and I don't really know why I expected him to do something other than shake my hand, he paused for breath. I mean, it's not very regal is it?

The dog looked at him with an expression of infinite understanding. Maybe having Wendell as a dog again wouldn't be so bad at all, Wolf thought. He could slide his hands through that buttermilk-creamy fur and get not so much as a sharp word or a long-suffering-expression for his impertinence.

the dog agreed, leaning into Wolf's scratching.  
When Wolf turned around, he realised that Wendell was sitting on the coach-house steps looking vaguely horrified, and not at all regal.

You're scratching him _against the fur_, the King explained, as if this were a hanging offence.

Oh, but he doesn't mind, Wolf said, and then flushed, realising that he had just sounded more stupid than he had ever thought possible. If only a magic mirror would fall on my head, he thought miserably.

Wendell said, and knelt down beside him, running his hand down the dog's back in movements that would have been smooth and extravagant if his hand hadn't been shaking. _Poor_ dog. So put upon by careless strokers.Oh, I can be a very careful stroker when I want to be! Wolf exclaimed, and then instantly amended his previous thought: make that _two_ magic mirrors. Heavy ones.

Wendell laughed. Yes, I expect so.Look, about the - Virginia started, and:

I'm sorry to bring this up - Wendell interrupted, and they both laughed, awkwardly.

Virginia couldn't help but notice how much _taller_ than her Wendell had become, which when she thought about it was completely ridiculous: humans are, generally, a great deal taller than dogs. But after noticing how tall he was, she crept to other details; the way he was leaning against the wall, his hand placed somewhere just above her head to steady himself; the faint smell of velvet and musk that clung to his clothing; the way the wind (it was a cold day, and she really didn't have much idea what she was doing wandering around the castle battlements: maybe being pregnant _is_ rather like going mad) blew curls into his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him.

There. That wasn't so hard, was it?

Look. About what you said at the Ball. I'm not... she hesitated, looking down for a moment. I know you meant it seriously, Wendell. I've seen the way you look at me, sometimes. Wendell's hand was on her shoulder, and she swallowed hard.

And I know you meant it seriously, and that makes it worse because I can't. Virginia felt that, somehow, she was missing the most important point of the conversation, but she ploughed ahead anyway. I can't, I'm engaged to Wolf, and I'm sure there a hundreds of potential Queens out there, and if you went back to Little Lamb Village being all - human - I'm sure you'd be swamped, and it's not that I'm not flattered but.

Wendell sighed, his thumb making slow circles on her collarbones. She shivered.

Didn't you ever dream about all this? Wendell said quietly, turning away to look out over the battlements. The river. The lake. The castle, and the sunset in the distance, over the forest. You dreamt about all this because it's meant for you.

Virginia felt the beginning of tears prickling behind her eyes. She _had_ dreamt about it. The castle. The magic kingdom. And the blond-haired Prince, with a soft voice, who was only really arrogant when he forgot about being a dog, who smelled of velvet and musk and smiled too rarely because he was afraid his courtiers wouldn't take him seriously. Maybe the dog' aspect hadn't been part of her dream. Hmm.

Virginia, please - Wendell turned around. I know this isn't easy. It isn't easy for me, either. I feel... clumsy around you. But if you could just give me a chance.

Modern girls seize the moment. They do what's in their hearts, according to page 234 of January's Cosmopolitan. Which is why Virginia was so utterly surprised when she did nothing, just stood there looking away towards the forest. In the end, Wendell's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, and she sighed, suddenly feeling hot and cold and shivery all over.

A chance, okay, she muttered, and his lips moved in response to the sensitive spot behind her ear, his arms tightening around her shoulders. And then she sighed, and leant into him, and his lips worked their way up onto hers, hesitant and warm, but not awkward in the slightest.

VIII

Anthony is exceptionally embarrassed to walk in on his daughter (his little girl!) and her fiance having sex, half-on half-off the bed, Wolf's teeth at Virginia's throat, Virginia's nails scoring Wolf's fur-covered back, tail waving, Virginia panting.

He runs out into the corridor, and collides with the King. Who, he realises later, looks awfully flushed. And had been hiding behind a tapestry.

IX

Virginia is exceptionally embarrassed, but is almost thankful to have her suspicions confirmed, when she walks in on Wolf giving Wendell a bath. She doesn't know how long she stands in the doorway, watching bubbles and hot scented water (musk, warm skin) sliding over the King's naked back, his golden curls gleaming in the firelight. Wolf has rolled up his sleeves, but his arms are dripping wet, his boots pulled off and thrown carelessly to one side. Wendell leans into his scrubbing, wordlessly, and Virginia is horrified at herself as she cranes her head to one side, eyes moving down the smooth pale skin of his chest, coming to rest between his legs, feeling as hot and breathless as if she had been doused in boiling water herself. Wendell moves suddenly to one side, and Virginia has to bite her tongue to stop herself making a noise at the clandestine glimpse of naked King, his erection hard and obvious against the porcelain.

She must have made a noise, because they both turn.

Wendell, at least, has the good grace to look apologetic. For the fleas, he says, and Wolf nods fervently.

Virginia wonders if, for Wolf at least, that's the only explanation.

X

Wolf moaned, and collapsed against the side of the bath, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. What are we going to do? She's angry! I think she's angry! She only does that sideways wait till I get you home, mister Wolf' look when I've done something bad, really bad!

Wendell turned around to look at him, sloshing soapy water over the side of the tub. Wolf, don't worry. If she was angry, she'd have - come in here screaming and yelling, that sort of thing. He hoped that was true. She just watched for a while. He forces a laugh. Probably checking you did my hair properly.

Wolf scrambled up, the expression on his face pitifully grateful. Oh, do you really think that's true?

Wendell didn't, but nodded anyway. He had turned around to see Virginia standing in the doorway, her lip bitten, her face flushed. The thought that she had been watching wasn't as potent an anaphrodisiac as it should have been, and he shivered involuntarily when the movement of turning around rubbed him against the side of the bath. Damn. The water was covered with a thick layer of bubbles, but he wasn't entirely sure whether Wolf could see his rather embarrassing state of arousal. He wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted him to. Damn damn damn.

I should go and see her, and explain about the fleas, Wolf said with disarming innocence, grabbing his boots. Otherwise - cripes! - she might get the wrong idea entirely.And what would that be? Wendell asked patiently, watching Wolf's face.

Wolf's eyes slid downwards. He _could_ see. Even more damn. Well, that we were up to something. I mean -So you just got me naked and into a hot bath to get rid of an embarrassing flea problem, Wendell said in a leaden voice, feeling as if the world had gone mad around him. A scented bath. By candlelight. And then _washed me_.

Wolf's expression could have shattered a mirror. Or, failing that, made for some very interesting comedy when the wind changed.

Wendell sighed. We're still not talking about it, are we? He started pulling himself out of the tub, remembered his quite un-regal physical state, and stopped. Go and explain to Virginia about the fleas.

Wolf did, but not before grasping Wendell by the shoulders and imparting a second, equally surprising kiss. Though, thankfully, less short and less embarrassing. He couldn't claim that the tongue was unexpected, either, though it made heat creep out of the cooling water and into his bones, turned him rock hard and made Wolf let out a slow, keening sound, hand trailing into the water, coming out _far_ too early.

Once Wolf had gone, Wendell bolted the bedroom door. There had been too many surprises for one day, and too many of them involved him being dripping wet and naked. He had a council to go to. The pixie tax to draft. Several important waving engagements in Kissingtown, not to mention opening the new Far, Far Away' toll road.

Instead, he lay on the bed, soaking the sheets through with soapy water. Wrapping a hand around himself, he wasn't entirely sure whether he was thinking of Wolf or Virginia. Maybe neither. Maybe both. Damn.

XI

It _wasn't_ just a bath! Virginia half-screams, realising that Wolf is far more stubborn than she is, that he isn't going to give a _single inch_ even after she's walked in on him practically drooling over a naked man. A naked man who she's kissed, and thinks may have proposed to her in that high-handed, roundabout way that Wendell always has.

Huff puff! If you can't trust me, then we're through! Wolf says, and she can tell he's trying to be menacing. His tail is practically standing on end, and the sudden double entendre makes her suddenly choke with laughter, bringing tears to her eyes.

Don't cry, Virginia! I didn't mean it! Wolf murmurs, dropping a large scrubbing brush on the deep, red carpet and rushing to her side.

Virginia giggles. Somehow, she thinks, the world has gone mad, and wipes her face on his ridiculously frilly sleeves, biting back a second, more heartfelt sob.

Christine was always like this, Anthony says in a matter-of-fact voice. When she was pregnant. It was no, not _that_ caviar, _this_ caviar!' and crying at the drop of a hat. He thinks about that, and carries on. Of course, she was a woman with a _lot_ of hats.

Virginia covers her face. Dad, please could you leave us alone? We're trying to have a private conversation!

Anthony pretends to be shocked. Oh, like half the castle couldn't hear that Wolfie here was caught in the bath with King Wendell?_He was not in the bath_! they both shout, Wolf's tail flicking menacingly back and forth and destroying several pieces of royal porcelain in the process. A modern girl wouldn't get herself into these messes, Virginia thinks. Maybe I _am_ better cut out for this whole fairytale princess thing.

Anthony shrugs. Like it made any difference?This is ridiculous! Wolf expounds, a sweeping hand movement almost putting paid to the royal collection of shepherdess figurines. King Wendell! He smells all wrong and, huff puff, he wears the most ridiculous clothes. Not when I've got the most creamy, dreamy -Corky girl in the nine kingdoms, Virginia finishes for him.

She feels she should tell him. If only her Dad would take the hint and leave.

She takes his hand. His tail drops slightly, bristling less. We're not stuck in... the Cinderellan period any more, right?

He nods, suspicious.

And I know that you and Wendell have... unfinished business, you both being part-canine in several extremely confusing ways.

Anthony doesn't take the hint.

XII

She's read about it in Cosmopolitan, and isn't exactly sure how it applies to magic kingdoms with singing rings and talking mice. But then, the self-help book had shown her that people were people, wherever you went.

Except, well, the ones that weren't.

XIII

Wendell pushed her backwards, gently, onto the bed. He knew that she had never had a permanent faint smell of - dog - featuring in her daydreams, but hoped that the expensive perfume would more than cover it (or Signior Acorn's Royal Perfumery' would be out of business within the next few days). He also knew that, strictly speaking, not many princesses dream of being proposed to at the Troll Ambassador's Ball, or of having their father mutter dire threats to both of her prospective suitors whenever they passed in the castle corridors. But he started undoing the buttons on her corset, one by one, feeling the faint trembling in his fingers as he moved lower.

Virginia reached up and ran a finger down his neck, down his bare chest. He could feel himself flushing as she ran over the wolf-sized, Wolf-sized bite marks, and it was met by an answering pinkness about her face. A girl who liked to watch. That was... damn.

Her hands moved lower, and Wendell bit his lip as Wolf's arms wrapped around him from behind. Strong grip to soft fingers, rough skin to slender hands, both around him, and he let out a long deep breath as their lips met in the space between him and the bed.

Then his hand was between Wolf's legs. Huff puff, Wolf whispered, his eyes huge, and Virginia nodded in agreement, leaning forward and letting her breasts spill out of the corset, round and pale.

When they kissed for the third time, it was with Wendell's hand wrapped around Wolf's erection, Wolf panting into his mouth; Wolf's hands on Virginia's breasts, teasing the pink firmness of her nipples; their legs tangled up in the velvet sheets, Wendell thrusting against Wolf like a dog in heat.

And, unsurprisingly, it was neither short nor embarrassing.

XIV

Anthony said firmly. That's what it is. I try and raise her properly, and you know what?

The golden retriever wagged its tail.

__

XV__

"I'd like to say that Wolf and I lived happily ever after but that's not true. We all did."  



End file.
